The Saint & the Hitman
by vescaria
Summary: Harry receives a little shove into the world of the Vongola and catches the attentions of a dark-hearted hitman; however, their future together does not appear to be bright. Harry x Reborn. Will have a happy ending.
1. Part 1

**The Saint and the Hitman **

**Part 1 of 2/3? **

**Vescaria**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn or Harry Potter.

**Warnings**: Yaoi (Reborn x Harry Potter), AU (Alternate Universe), possibly (probably) OOC characters

**Notes**:This story turned out a lot differently than I intended, but I like how the plot turned out anyway (even if it is a bit more serious in some areas than I intended). This was intended to be a oneshot; however, after reaching 8,000 words I realized that I wanted to release it in parts. Please note, I'm not an expert on guns. :C (Just a bit of trivia but the CZ75 1ST is the type of gun Reborn uses.)

Despite that, I hope everyone enjoys this. Part 2 is coming as well as new installments for Rebirth and Strange Birds!

**X**

Harry's new life began to take shape when he _accidently_ destroyed his on-and-off relationship with Ginny Weasley.

"I never said I _wasn't _going to marry you," the man defended, dodging a pair of hot red heels that were lobbed his way. "Oi! Why are you in such a hurry to get married, anyway?" Ginny let out an angry sound, advancing towards him. In her hands was a paper weight, the one Teddy had given Harry for his twenty-second birthday. The small globe, while a simple gift, had been a wonderful and thoughtful item to receive. An abstract black shape within looked somewhat like a wolf—the entire reason Teddy had taken interest in it. "We're still young? And, uh, Ginny, come on. We still—" She threw it at him, Harry dodged, and the small crystal sphere shattered against the tiled floor of Harry's refurbished ancestral home. Then, everything was silent—minus the sound of the woman's uneven breathing.

The red-head shoved a hand through her hair roughly, "You're so insensitive." The words became louder, stronger, angrier. "I've been waiting for you to propose to me for practically my whole life!" Harry flinched before crossing his arms. "But you're always so full of excuses! Work. Teddy. We're too young? For the sake of Merlin! _Everyone's_ married but us!" She flung her arms wide as if to illustrate her point. "Hermione and Ron are on their second child for goodness sake! And you and I have _nothing_!"

Harry felt his insides go cold. "Nothing, huh? So in order to have 'something' we have to be married?" he asked bitingly. "_Like everyone else_?" the auror mimicked. "God, Ginny! This is crazy! I'm not ready for all that yet, and I've told you that—a million times in fact! Why are you in such a hurry?" The man shook his head. "You just got a permanent spot on the Tornadoes, and you wantto get married and start a family? Where's all this coming from?"

Ginny scowled, parroting him, "Where's all this coming from?" She took a harsh breath before plowing on. "I've invested my whole life after the war into this relationship, and we've gone _nowhere._ You won't even _sleep_ with me!"

The wizard's eyes widened, taking a few steps back, "You said you were fine what that!"

"Well you said you wanted to get married first," the woman snapped, "but _apparently_, you never intended for that to happen."

"Not when I was seventeen!" Harry exclaimed.

The witch threw her hands up in exasperation, "And yet no one else in your year was against getting married back then—just _you_! You're so selfish!"

"_Selfish_? I was trying to straighten my life out! Get things together—you know that. I had Teddy to think about, and there were all the reforms Kingsley and I spent _every goddamn night _working on. And that makes me selfish?" Harry ranted skeptically. He failed to mention how long it took for him to realize they _weren't_ at war anymore. Before he had let Ginny visit the new Godric's Hollow, Harry had spent months with the horrifying nightmares and the paranoia—along with the guilt of taking someone's life. The war, in all honestly, had never left him, but Harry coped better than he had when he was still fresh out of it.

Ginny sighed, "I know, Harry, but it's been _years._ You still pull late hours at work, and you spend every single weekend with Teddy." The man growled at the comment, feeling as though it was almost an insult to his close relationship with his godson. "Where do I fit in?" The woman was crying, but for whatever reason, Harry didn't feel bad about it. "It's like you don't even care about me anymore." The head auror stared at the broken shards of glass on the floor angrily. He knew an ultimatum when he heard one. 'Marry me to prove you love me,' Ginny was really saying.

"I think you should go," he said quietly, turning away from her. Bending down to pick up the shattered pieces of the precious gift, he noted that she hadn't moved to obey him.

Ginny stared at the man she had adored and looked up to her whole life, the one she had grown to love. "Harry, I just love you so much," the woman attempted to explain, moving towards him. "I don't want anything to come between us." Harry turned his head to give her a chilly, heart-stopping stare. It made sense to him in a way, but her words also made him angry. After all, one of the supposed things getting 'between' them was his godson, Teddy. And after being pushed around his whole life, he _hated_ being backed into corners more than anything.

"Leave. _Please_, Ginny. I don't want to talk about this anymore," he said, leaving no room for argument. With a pained look, Ginny Weasley exited the room, and seconds later, Harry heard the sounds of the Floo activating in the living room.

Ron kept quiet about it for as long as he could—which was approximately two weeks. Then, predictably, he exploded at Harry one day just as the green-eyed man entered the office. The two had both become aurors right after the war, though Harry managed to snag the position of Head Auror after some time under Kingsley Shacklebolt's tutelage. Harry Potter had gained a reputation for being notoriously hard-headed. However, the man was also noted for being dependable and a fighter for justice, true to his nickname—_Saint Potter_. Ron was reliable, as he had generally been during the year, but he was a hot-head. Draco, ever the cool and proper one, always seemed to be clashing heads with the red-headed Gryffindor alumni.

"Harry, you've gotta talk to Ginny," Ron demanded before adding, a bit uncomfortably, "She _loves _you, mate."

The green-eyed man rolled his eyes, hanging his outer cloak onto the hook behind his desk. "_Please_, Ron, not at work," the proclaimed savior of the wizarding world urged. "In fact," the man grumbled, "I'd prefer if you don't mention it at all."

Ron, typically, ignored him. "Harry, you've got to face it sometime," the man argued. "She's not going to wait for you forever." Harry slumped into his chair grumpily, his mood plummeting into the earth with every word. He wanted to snap something callous back, something like, '_Maybe I don't want her to wait for me.'_ However, he refrained—if only to keep the red-head from screaming at him as a result. Instead of replying, the Head of the Auror Department began to fiddle with the photos on his desk. There were three—one of his parents, one of the 'golden trio,' and one of the adorable Theodore Lupin.

The Weasley made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, "There you go again! Ignoring your problems won't make them go away." Harry sighed, setting down the picture of Teddy—who paused in his gardening to gaze curiously at Harry. The green-eyed man almost smiled at the cute sight. In the photo, the little boy was covered almost head-to-toe in dirt, and after a moment, the boy went back to planting his tulips.

"I'm _not_ ignoring it. I'm focusing on work."

"You're rearranging your photos!"

Harry laid his head on his desk with a grunt, "You sound like Ginny." The statement was phrased negatively, and Ron glared at his friend's head on the table.

"Just talk to—" Ron began, his voice growing louder, only to be interrupted.

"Troubles in paradise?" a haughty voice interrupted. "How utterly tragic." Draco Malfoy, wearing his normal crisp and tailored auror robes, regarded the situation before him with a single, raised brow. Ron bristled, and Harry mumbled something undecipherable, head still pressed onto his desk pathetically. The blond shook his head at the both of them, mostly Harry, and pushed past Ron. "Potter, get up. This is disturbingly pathetic, even for you," Malfoy ordered, and Harry raised his head slightly, grumbling under his breath.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Ron bit out. Harry was tempted to put his head back down as the tension grew between Ron and Draco. Even after years together in the department, the two men still hated each other. Harry? He had long since gotten over the petty rivalry of their school days; the man had seen Draco sacrifice enough for them during the war to know the man had some degree of integrity and honor.

They had all become aurors at around the same time. However, Draco had been regarded with suspicion since the beginning. The man bore the dark mark after all, and many believed that he deserved Azkaban for his involvement in the war. Harry had fought for him, had gotten him free and clear, and as a result, Draco respected him—even after he got the promotion to head of their department. (That same promotion had driven a wedge between Ron and the other Gryffindor for a few weeks before the bad feelings simmered down.) As two of the few bachelors left in their age bracket, the two spent many nights out at the pub after rough missions together—much to several people's chagrin. The head of the auror department also turned to the blond for advice and his opinions on department matters. All and all, Harry called Draco Malfoy a friend.

Ron, however, didn't.

"I'm _working_ unlike you, Weasley," Draco snapped back. "Potter, Kingsley wants you in his office at two, said it was important." With that, the blond stalked out of the office, making sure to bump shoulders with Ron on the way out.

The red-head glared at the other man's retreating back, "Can you belie—"

Harry let out a muffled groan, "Oh, come off it, Ron. He barely even spoke to you." Ron, too, stalked out of his office without another word. The green-eyed auror was glad for the peace and quiet—finally. He only hoped it would last.

**X**

"Vongola?" Harry asked, lifting the parchment out of Kingsley's hands gingerly. A bold orange flame, some kind of enchantment, flickered over the seal. It was a response of sorts—detailing a future meeting between someone from the Vongola and a ministry employee. Harry raised an eyebrow in the minister's direction. "Why are you showing this to _me_? Don't you have people to handle diplomacy and all that rot?" The auror may have been a decorated war hero, but he was no diplomat.

The older man smiled a bit, "The Vongola is a mafia family originating in Italy. And normally, yes. However, it's a delicate situation." Harry balked at the first statement.

"Please tell me you're kidding! What does the ministry want with the _mafia_?" The sudden overload of images of men in pinstriped suits with cigars in their mouths assaulted his mind. Wasn't the mafia submersed in a lawless sort of world? What business would they have with the Ministry of Magic? _In England?_

Kingsley sighed, "Unfortunately, this is a very serious matter. The Wizengamont has already voted on this matter—even though I urged them to reconsider." The man looked quite troubled by the thought. "We are bartering over _weapons_." Harry stared at him.

"_Weapons_? Kingsley, this is—" Normally Harry would address the man properly, but this was dangerous business, business Harry had hoped he'd never have to meddle in again. It frightened him—the thought that they may be heading for darker days again.

The minister held up a hand to stop him from continuing, "There have been several concerns to spark this transaction." Harry could guess the first one. "The uncaught members of Voldemort's army are the first reason." The green-eyed auror snorted, his first guess correct. "The Wizengamont also fears…a_ conflict_ may be coming. France, it seems, may be planning an invasion."

"Invasion," Harry whispered, almost as if he were mystified with the word. "Why haven't I heard of this?" Shouldn't he be aware of something of this magnitude?

The man sighed, "We were all under oath to not speak on the matter until things were more certain." Harry slumped into a chair. "France knows we are still in the process of rebuilding; you know we are not even completely united as a people." He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, knowing the words were true. There were still squabbles over blood purity and family lines, even after they had put a few years between them and the war. Many started to feel resentment towards those purebloods of darker origins, blaming them for the deaths of those murdered by Voldemort and his followers during the war. There was so much suspicion directed towards them; Harry feared that it was only a matter of time before things became ugly.

"The perfect time to strike," Harry said in the calmest voice he could muster, gathering his wits. "What am I to do?"

"You are to test the weapons, which are to remain a secret from _everyone_ until further notice," the Minister of Magic said gravely. "And give your feedback. You are also to determine, if the first part of your mission is successful, what the proper method of payment would be in exchange."

"Yes, sir."

In that moment, Ginny was forgotten-_completely_.

It was to be a week before the representative from the Vongola arrived, and Kingsley proceeded to give him the run down—and a stack of papers on the Vongola's organization. 'You will go by a codename,' Kingsley said, lips twitching upward despite the situation. 'Malfoy chose it, I believe. I feel that it fits quite nicely.' Harry felt wary at that statement (and honestly, who wouldn't?), but he looked to the Minister of Magic curiously despite himself.

'_Saint_,'the older man revealed.

**X**

Saint greeted the representative cordially, surprised to find the man was as young as he was (or perhaps even younger). "Iemitsu Sawada," he introduced himself, shaking the auror's hand without reluctance. The ministry representative man was glad for it, feeling his uneasiness fade. Sure, the blond was dressed in a suit (typical of a mafia man), but he was smiling so brightly, taking the edge off the purpose of their meeting. Still, he did not let his guard down. Smiling or not, he _was_ a mafia member, and Harry wasn't sure what he was capable of—even if he was a muggle.

They were meeting in a closed off location, and there were a circle of aurors—including Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley—surrounding the area as protection as well as members of the Vongola family. Ron had been particularly miffed that he wasn't allowed to know the nature of the meeting, but Harry refused to budge. Kingsley hadn't made him swear an oath, for whatever reason, but he wouldn't betray his boss and friend in such a manner. Not even for his oldest friend.

The building was empty of most anything save for a table and the silver suitcase Iemitsu had brought in with him_. _There were also a line of paper targets with human silhouettes hanging on the other end of the abandoned building, about one-hundred paces away.

"Call me Saint," Harry offered, giving the man a smile of his own. '_Please let this go as smoothly as possible_,' the auror prayed to himself.

"This is the CZ75," the man explained, after the pleasantries were over. Though the green-eyed man was intrigued, he failed to see why the ministry was interested in _guns_ of all things. They were useful, sure; however, Saint didn't see their use in a battle against another witch or wizard. One type of attack from a gun (easily stopped by magic) opposed to the huge arsenal of spells one could use while wielding a wand? Maybe if you learned to use both? But most wizards probably wouldn't have the patience to learn to use both.

"Maa, Saint," the man said, smile brilliant to the point that it was almost frightening, "don't look so unimpressed. Our technicians are aware of your _abilities._" The blond's eyes sharpened. "This," Iemitsu said with a wink, "will respond to your will."

Harry blinked, "Alright." He sounded skeptical, _felt_ skeptical. What the hell did he mean, _'It will respond to my will?' _The auror received the gun, feeling awkward despite how well the object fit in his hand.

"Well," Sawada said, amused, "give it a shot."

It was déjà vu. Harry was surprised how similar to a wand it felt when he fired the first shot, and he watched in amazement as the first target was obliterated, along with the target adjacent; the paper seemed to almost evaporat as the flame-engulfed bullet made contact. The bullet was coated in strange blue flames from the moment it left the gun. Iemitsu whistled, eyeing the spot where the targets were once hung.

"Have you ever handled a gun before, Saint?" the blond asked curiously. Harry shook his head, eyeing the gun suspiciously. How had it managed to produce such a powerful attack? He could still feel the shockwaves from the blast. 'That's a bit scary,' he thought to himself, and he set the CZ75 back into its slot in the suitcase. Iemitsu picked up the second gun, another handgun (a Beretta 98, the man had said) that produced a similar shot. Powerful, Saint thought. He almost laughed hysterically at himself, as he mentally compared the guns to each other. He felt like he was picking a new wand!

They went through several other handgun models—around ten in all. Iemitsu explained their different origins and features, and Harry listened raptly. Finally, they came to the last one. "It's an antique, actually," the man said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "It's sort of flashy, but I was told to include it in the lot as well. It might be more to your people's taste." It was _pretty_, Saint noted. It was a revolver with mother of pearl grips and intricate engravings across the metal parts of the gun itself.

Much to Iemitsu's surprise, the British man asked him to demonstrate the loading and unloading of process of the gun a few tunes so that he could try himself, and after watching for the second time, _Saint _stopped him and asked to attempt it himself. Iemitsu was sure the man would fumble through it, but it was astounding. A few fluid, quick actions, almost as if the man had practiced the movements a million times before, and the revolver was ready for firing.

The shot obliterated four of the targets in one go. "_Oh_, I like this one," the green-eyed man said pleased, turning the gun in his hand with a kind of excitement. It almost felt better than his wand. (Or did it feel better? He wasn't quite sure.) Iemitsu laughed loudly, patting the auror on the back heartily. Internally, the Japanese man was quite surprised. 'A natural,' he mused. He had expected someone talented when he had come to England, the correspondence between the Ninth and the Ministry of Magic painted the Ministry's representative as one of the most talented individuals of their society. However, the blond hadn't expected him to be _so_ talented. He was a _natural_ shooter, and those, the external advisor thought, were a true rarity.

In the end, the meeting was declared a success, and in exchange for the weapons, the Ministry offered full warding services to the Vongola Famiglia as well as useful combative products produced by the wizarding world—many of which, strangely enough, were manufactured by the WWW (Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes).

**X**

Harry was put in charge of demonstrations and the training of those who would handle the new weaponry. However, it was quickly discovered that not all possessed the talent that the head auror did. A selection process was set up in order to test new trainees, and it was because of this process that Harry was pulled even closer into the world of the mafia. The trigger was something large but not so life-changing, people thought, but in the end, it was something that drove Harry further away from the world of magic.

It began when the first selection yielded a failure from one Ronald Weasley.

To several people's surprise, Draco passed (with flying colors it seemed). To make matters worse, Ron hinted that Harry should waive his failure and allow him to continue. 'Come on, mate,' the man had pleaded. 'It's just a stupid test, and what's the big deal? They're just muggle weapons.' Harry, who had become the head of the new unit of gun-wielders, refused—as politely and kindly as his position, as friend and leader, allowed. The red-head, however, wasn't having any of it.

It was the end.

Despite how much Harry wished for them to remain friends, Ron drove an ax into their friendship. Harry, or _Perfect Potter_ as Ron tended to sneer after the event, knew the dangers of the new weapons—seeing as he was the first to test them—and refused to bend the rules for anyone who barely passed or failed. The man encouraged others to retake the test; however, he cut no breaks. In the end, the initial team was small, consisting of less than twenty members. After passing, these few were allowed to know the truth of the Vongola and were given clearance to accompany Harry when he went to negotiate them. Draco, unsurprisingly, became the head auror's first pick on such occasions.

Things with France smoothed over, mostly after a bit of bullying on Kingsley's end. One day while training, the broad (and often intimidating man) allowed a few French representatives to watch Harry give a practical combat lesson to his unit, a lesson which concluded in a demonstrative match against another unit who only used wands. When the display was over, after merely a few moments of combat, the pale-faced representatives casually asked if all their aurors were trained to use such methods—and weapons. Kingsley, in a grave voice, explained the need for _national security_ and that such measures needed to be taken. There was a dark warning in the man's voice, and from that moment on, the French wizarding community expressed only a wish to _befriend_ and learn from them. However, despite how many other countries pushed to gain hold of their weapons, England did not give them up.

Harry's life became work. Ginny, after a long period of silence followed by ranting and raving, gave up on him. Ron openly criticized him, and Hermione, though she made attempts to remain neutral, sided mainly with her husband. Mrs. Weasley urged him to 'return to them', meaning she wanted for him to marry Ginny and make amends with Ron. In other words, the main whole of the Weasley family was against him—minus the twins who always remained a force of their own, unmoved by everyone else's ambitions or opinions.

Draco became his confidant and his second-in-command. The two became almost inseparable, and a year after the new unit (called _Titan_) was formed, they could regularly be seen arguing or training with one another. Strangely enough, Harry became the go-between for all Vongola-related affairs—apparently a request from the Vongola end. He was also in charge of making sure the mafia family was paid appropriately, and he was in charge of the security of the secrets and weapons the Vongola shared with the wizarding world. His duties taxed him. Harry was still the head of the auror department in addition to being the head of Titan and all Vongola affairs.

The strain showed.

Time had made it appropriate to divulge several things to the Vongola. His real name eventually was revealed, though most including Iemitsu still called him Saint, and the ministry's status as a wizarding government was openly known and discussed. Because of these facts, closeness grew between the Vongola and Titan, the bridge between the Vongola Family and the Ministry of Magic. Harry was so comfortable with the Vongola that he often conducted his meetings with Iemitsu, their main representative, in his own home.

"You look like death," Iemitsu greeted with a smile, watching as the other man poured them each a glass of Ogden's. The blond took a seat on the auror's comfy red sofa easily, having done it several times before. Harry cracked open an eye to glare at the blond. Somewhere in the year or so that they'd known each other, the man had become a close friend. Their relationship was mainly built on business interest, but the auror found that he liked the man's easy-going and light-hearted nature. However, Harry was slightly disturbed to learn the truth about the man.

_He was an __**absolute**__ fruitcake—_a rather large one. (Harry, who still went by Saint within the Vongola, was horrified to find that the man often caressed and cooed at the pictures of his wife and 'most adorable' son in his billfold.) Harry often wondered if he was bi-polar. At the drop of a hat, the man could go from a cooing family-man to stern and strong Vongola representative. Yet despite his eccentricities, Harry deeply respected him. He brought wonderful technological advancements to the wizarding world, and he brought a fun element into the auror's life. Draco often whined, in his own haughty way, that Harry didn't have enough fun in his life.

Harry snorted, shoving his hands in his pockets, before muttering sarcastically, "Thanks."

The blond just grinned at him, "Working hard, Saint? You should really find a girlfriend to help remedy that. Someone like my radiant Nana—" the man trailed off, a strange and very creepy glint entering his eyes. The man began to reach for his billfold, and Saint quickly replied, hoping to keep the man from openly displaying his affection for his beloved Nana and their son—though the kid was pretty cute, Harry'd admit.

The auror glared, "No way. I have enough problems. Add a woman to the mix?" His thoughts drifted to Ginny. "Bah! I'd lose my mind."

"A man, then," Iemitsu added without a thought. "They tend to be more low maintenance. _Well_," the man paused, as if thinking, "or so I'm told anyway." Harry stared, open-mouthed at the blond. "I'm afraid I have little experience in that arena. After I met Nana, you see—" Despite himself, the British man let out a groan.

The Vongola representative had almost opened the 'shrine of photos' he kept on his person at all times when Harry quickly interrupted, "No relationships. I don't have the time (or the patience) for them. Now, what do you need to discuss with me?"

Iemitsu became all business in an instant, "The Ninth and I want you to join the Vongola." Harry blinked at the sudden declaration.

"_Uh_, what?" Saint questioned intelligently. Suddenly, the auror felt a nervous feeling enter his gut.

The blond watched him with a calculating gaze, "You're a natural hitman, did you know?" Harry frowned at the statement, not sure how to take it or what it had to do with anything. Was that why they wanted him? Because he was talented? "And, more importantly, your government's about to fold on you and your division. Your friend, the scary blond, tipped us off." The blood almost froze in his veins.

Respectfully, Harry told Iemitsu that he would check into the matter himself; however, he made no comment about joining the Vongola.

But the seed had been planted.

'Would it be so bad?' he wondered, long after the blond has exited his home. Iemitsu was a nice enough guy, straightforward with a kind side. Perhaps the mafia _wasn't_ filled with a bunch of heartless monsters that were less than human. What about his life in the wizarding world though? Realistically, there was little he would truly miss. His childhood relationships had tanked, and most of the people he was currently close to were involved with Titan. Even then, his fellow gun-weilders, minus Draco, weren't _that _close to the man. The only other person in his life that he found truly mattered was his godson, Teddy. As for items or places, there wasn't really anything Harry couldn't do without—minus a few things he could easily bring along with him.

The Deathly Hallows for one.

The rest of his possessions? Not worth worrying about—_replaceable_. But if the Ministry was going to turn on Titan, what would happen to the rest of his people? The man couldn't imagine abandoning them and only saving himself.

"When are you leaving?" Draco asked casually, sipping at an expensive glass of red wine. Harry, who had been nursing the same glass of whiskey for close to three hours, looked up at the man in surprise. The blond merely scoffed, rolling his eyes, "Well? Did you get the message that the Ministry's about to crash down on our heads? Titan and anything to do with the Vongola is going to get _buried_. Apparently we're too powerful or some rot like that."

"How did do you know all that? I've been listenin—"

The blond laughed, "Listening to whom? The minister? Sadly, Kingsley would probably know little about it at this stage; the man's one of the few still on _our_ side after all." The man paused in his dialogue, taking a particularly long sip, "I have a few people willing to inform me of such things _deep_ in the dregs of the ministry. You've made _a lot_ of enemies in the last few years, especially after you pulled away from the Weasleys. People think you're going dark. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Weasley had something to do with this mess."

Harry gaped like a fish, letting the information sink in. "But the entire point of Titan is to be a defense against threats to the Ministry. Why would they want to get rid their best fighting force?" he argued weakly. The blond snorted—which was very unlike the Slytherin alumni.

"I doubt they see it like that," Draco said calmly. "Think about it, won't you? I know how difficult that is for you, _thinking _that is, but do try to keep up." Harry's lips twitched upward. "You're in charge of Vongola related affairs…_because the Vongola themselves asked for you. _You are also in charge of an _extremely_ selective part of the auror program that is known for being an almost unstoppable force in the wizarding world. In fact, I'm sure most view you as one of the most powerful wizards of our time. (I, however, know what an idiot you are so I'm immune to such an moronic belief.) What does that add up to? _A revolution. _They think you're in league with the mafia and intend to take over the ministry. Titan, I imagine, is seen as the beginning of your new, 'dark' army."

"Me?" the man squeaked. "Why in the world would I want to take over the _ministry_?" The blond gave him a funny look.

Then slyly replied, "_Oh, dear_. Did I break your brain? What, _Saint_, the ministry not enough for you? Maybe you really plan to take over the country…or, better yet, maybe the whole world. I never knew you were so ambitious."

"I'm not taking over anything! Maybe if I talked to—"

Draco sighed, "You're hopeless, Potter. Nothing you say will convince them otherwise besides, perhaps, your resignation from the auror department, and that may not even do it." The blond paused. "For the record, if you do resign_,_ I will personal string you up and use that empty thing you call a head for target practice," the man added coolly. Harry nodded briskly.

"What do we _do_ then? I can't just _leave_." Draco muttered something insulting under his breath. "Oh hush, you bastard. What about the rest of Titan? Or Teddy? I can't just _leave_." To his surprise, Draco just laughed at him and his worries.

Pouring himself another glass, Draco spoke, "Don't be foolish. This is_** completely**_ your fault, and I expect you to take full responsibility for the lives that are going to be _absolutely_ ruined by this tragedy."

"You do?" the green-eyed man muttered confusedly. "How exactly?" he added slowly, not quite comprehending.

Draco patted Harry's head in a patronizing manner, "_Merlin, _you're thick. We're a team, you idiot—though I loath to admit it when you act like this. The whole of Titan answers to you, and if you leave, I'm sure the lot of us will follow you. It's not as if we have much of a choice. Anyway," he added casually, "I can't imagine the mafia being any worse than this place. If you ask me, this exodus is _long_ overdue."

If anything, Harry appeared to be more bewildered, and questioned even more slowly, "You'd all come with me?"

"Obviously. In case it hasn't permeated your thick skull, we're practically all the family you have, and it's not as if we have any other purpose in life. Titan has become our lives. I'm sure the Vongola can find a place for us."

"What about your family? Your fortune? Why would—"

Draco gripped his shoulder tightly with one hand, "Listen to me, Potter." He smiled a bit, "_Saint._ I'm only going to give you this pep talk once, and after this moment, we'll never speak of it again. Got it?" The head of Titan simply stared at him at first, but he managed a weak nod after a few moments. "There is _nothing_ here in the wizarding world worth staying over. My family is a broken mess. I'm unmarried, childless, and I'm a generally unpleasant person to be around. _You_ gave me a second chance, and honestly, work is the only thing I enjoy doing every day. Titan? It's my _purpose._ If you go, I'll go. Titan will always follow its leader. We are yours."

"That was surprisingly heartfelt," Saint said, smiling slightly.

Malfoy kicked him the shin.

**End Note! **

For whatever reason, the poll is refusing to work in my profile. If you'd be so kind, in your reviews, to give me your vote on the following plots. :] Pick your top **FOUR **favorites and simply include their numbers in your review. Of course, I'd love for you to include feedback on this story as well as your vote. ;P Also, feel free to give me some ideas for future one-shots.

1. In order to give Atemu a new body, Yugi secretly sacrificed himself. As the Master of Death, Harry can save him. (HP x YGO)

2. Sho's new PV co-star, the violinist Harry Potter, was SHORT (and by God, pretty). But Sho wasn't gay! (Skip Beat x HP)

3. After integrating himself into the mafia, Harry sets forth on a quest to seduce the Vongola's Tenth. (HP x KHR)

4. As the Master of Death, Harry finds it amusing to torment others-especially blond ninjas possessed by demons. (HP x Naruto)

5. In order to give Atemu a new body, Yugi secretly sacrifices himself, and bit by bit, he fades away. (YGO)

6. Harry finds himself in a precarious situation involving himself, his ancient past, and Seto Kaiba. (HP x YGO)

7. Kyoko never became an actress, and instead spiraled into a world of depression. Sho attends her funeral. (Skip Beat)

8. A hidden area of ancient ruins tells of Middle Earth's past and of the downfall of our civilization. (Lord of the Rings)

9. Yugi Motou never solved the millennium puzzle, and the cycle of bullying continues. Until Seto Kaiba intervenes. (YGO)

10. Professional Go Player, Hikaru Shindou, finds himself losing to a foreigner who plays too much like Sai. (HP x HnG)

11. Kurama's fangirls? Scary. Harry Potter's fangirls? Scarier. The fangirls generated by their ousted relationship? (HP x YYH)

12. Bitter Naruto finds himself skipping a few grades and ending up on Team Gai. (Naruto)

13. Ginny hated her husband and his obsession with the truth. Why was he so set on proving magic was a lie? (Stargate x HP)


	2. Part 2

**The Saint and the Hitman **

**Part 2 of 4**

**Vescaria**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn or Harry Potter.

**Warnings:** Yaoi (Reborn x Harry Potter / Onesided!Drarry), possibly (probably) OOC characters

**Notes:** Sorry, guys! This was going to be posted yesterday, but I accidently saved over the file and closed it. I'll admit, I cried a bit, but I moved on. You're in luck though because I rewrote the chapter and made it more fun (and WAY more raunchy). This chapter has definitely earned its 'M' rating, and I ask that readers read with caution. Reborn takes advantage of a semi-intoxicated Harry, and I'm not encouraging such acts (or sex before marriage). Reborn just wanted to get into Harry's pants so I let him…because you can't really fight a man like Reborn.

**The following are answers to questions posed by reviewers: **

**What about the other members of Titan?**

Originally, I wasn't even going to really mention them because I was focusing on the romance, but a few of the members are mentioned in this chapter (Felix Brunt and Su Li). I have notes on the others, and they may be mentioned later. I _**do**_suppose squibs could use guns, like a reviewer proposed. C:

**What about Teddy and Andromeda?**

Teddy will remain in England for a while under Andromeda's care (so yes, Andromeda's alive). Harry is the boy's father figure, but it will be a while yet before they will be reunited. He will attend Hogwarts; however, the rest of his story will be revealed in the last two parts of the story.

**Is Reborn an arcobaleno in the story?**

Not yet. I hint that it's coming in this chapter, but Harry and Reborn get a few years together as adults before all hell breaks loose.

**Do Titan guns use the dying will flame?**

Yesh. C:

**X**

"When are you going to start looking for that man?" Iemitsu commented one evening. They had been in Italy for nearly half a year—Harry and the six other members of Titan that had decided to make their escape from England. The seven of them had brought the few things they truly cherished and had transferred their accounts within Gringotts overseas to Italy. For Harry, that meant he came with very little beyond the few treasures he had accumulated through his time in Hogwarts and his time as Teddy's godfather. Leaving Ted behind, that had been one of the hardest parts of leaving England. However, the little boy had demanded that his godfather write to him—even swearing that he would keep the letters a secret because he knew his godfather was hiding his exodus from practically everyone.

When they had arrived in Italy very little about their line of work changed. (Their unit within in the Vongola was known as the "Special Circumstances Response Division", but they also went by their previous shorter name, Titan.) The Ninth was a fair boss, and the Gryffindor enjoyed conversing with the elder man about work and his own personal life. In comparison to the corruption in the Ministry, working for the Vongola was like working for _God_. The Ninth wasn't a malicious man, and his just handlings helped the green-eyed wizard let go of England more completely.

Somewhere in the first six months, Italy became _home_.

The first sight of trouble came with Xanxus, a teenager of thirteen who was louder than anyone Harry had ever encountered in his life. "He's very good at fighting," the Ninth explained, "but he lacks to the heart I'd like to see in our next boss." Their new boss often commented that Harry had the temperament of a leader; the Gryffindor was strong, dependable, and _fair._ It wasn't often that things were fair in the mafia world, but the man looked out for others and treated them as they deserved. The Ninth said he liked that in him, that it was one of the reasons he put some much trust in him from the start.

He and the other Titans had heard _a lot_ about the kid before they ever encountered him. The rumors painted a scary picture of a violent and demanding individual; one that Draco said was probably more trouble than he was worth. Yet, the Ninth had faith that he could change and mature with time. 'He's only thirteen,' the older man would say with a fond smile. Harry was quietly reminded of all the stupid things he had done a kid, and it occurred to him that it was a miracle he was even alive to speak of his younger years.

"Trash, are you _Saint?_" the boy had demanded. Harry hadn't, in all honestly, known how to respond to such a hostile sounding question. Why was the kid looking for him of all people? Against his better judgment, he truthfully confirmed that he was.

Somehow, his "Yes, I am" ended in a (severely) one-sided fight with the kid. (Honestly, had the brat thought he would win against a twenty-five year old?) Harry admitted that he _was_ impressed with Xanxus's flames and the teenager's potential; however, the teen was so _loud_, crude, and uncaring. After beating the kid, his ears were ringing, and it only got worse when the kid's white-haired friend (they denied being friends vehemently) showed up. The man hadn't known anyone could be so loud until he met the duo. Superbia Squalo and Xanxus.

Harry called them interesting. (Draco, likewise, called them crazy.)

Somehow, the fight led to him 'instructing' the kid, though both parties seemed against it to some degree in the very beginning. Harry didn't like the idea of dealing with all the noise, and Xanxus was much too prideful to be instructed by an _outsider._ Yet, one look from the Ninth had the two cooperating—to some degree. The Ninth's son insisted on being a pain in the ass the first few lessons, and Harry lived up to his codename of _'Saint'_ for putting up with him. Somewhere in there, their student-teacher bickering became so routine, neither really cared about the arrangement anymore. Xanxus listened (and begrudgingly respected) his teacher, and Harry taught him how to better handle a gun and his anger (though the anger bit would take a billion years to master in Harry's opinion). The kid was like a super-active volcano, erupting over every little tremor.

Now, Iemitsu's romantic question found its answer in time—though certainly not in the way anyone expected.

Xanxus had pushed a few too many buttons during their lesson for the day, and Harry had drowned his anger and frustration in a few too many glasses of well-aged red wine. Draco told the man to stay put, that he would come and 'babysit' him since he obviously couldn't care for himself. Though the nature of the words were a bit mean, there was a clear note of concern; however, having consumed too much wine, Harry couldn't hear said note and hung up (and turned off) the phone as a headache began to take hold.

'Stupid Xanxus,' he thought as he stumbled to his room. 'Bastard Draco.'

Turning down a hall, he entered the room he _thought _was his own, only to find it was _occupied_. The light from the hall illuminated the two within like a beacon, and there was an eerie silence before anyone spoke or moved. It was a man and a woman—clearly engaged in an obvious act. The woman was the first to move, squeaking out apologies in embarrassment and dressing clumsily. She darted out within seconds after being discovered with her secret lover, strawberry blond hair trailing after her and filling Harry's nose with the strong scent of artificial cherry. The two men were still, until Saint slumped against the doorframe, feeling tired beyond his years.

"Well, you've run off my entertainment for the night," the man within the room commented, moving towards him. Dark hair and dark eyes were all that Harry really registered. The man looked _intense_ for the lack of a better word and frightening despite his state of undress. Harry was glad he had interrupted when he had rather than later. The dark-eyed man was at least still wearing pants, even if they were unbuttoned and unzipped. The Titan opened his mouth to apologize, but the mystery man pulled him inside the room roughly, closing the door loudly behind him. Before he could speak or question, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dangerous was pressing him up against the door, tugging at his clothes and planting hard kiss against his neck and chin.

Harry's mind was foggy from the alcohol but certainly not _that_ foggy. He made an attempt to fight back, to push the other away, but the man planted his knee between Harry's legs and _rubbed. _The wizard's alcohol muddled brain seemed to short-circuit at the sensation that followed, and he let out an embarrassing sound, his head falling back against the door. "Enjoying this?" the man hissed into his ear, making quick work of Harry's jacket and vest. He nipped at the green-eyed man's ear and began trailing little bites up and down the smaller man's neck.

"S-stop," he managed to get out, though his body seemed to have other ideas. The Gryffindor, somewhere in the back of his mind, registered how wrong the situation was, but it was hard to think past the alcohol haze and the feelings the other man was igniting with his touches. Harry attempted to push the other man away again, "Don't!" The exclamation was meant to be strong, but it was much too quiet and faded quickly into the darkness of the room.

His soon-to-be lover kissed him deeply, running his tongue against the seam of Harry's lips before slipping inside the wizard's mouth. _It was nothing like Ginny_, he somehow managed to think. This was a whole other level of passion and heat; the man felt like his body was on fire. A moan slipped from his mouth and was swallowed by his assaulter, and a hand began to unbutton his shirt and pinch at his nipples. Harry moaned helplessly. "You don't want me to stop," a sultry voice said after they separated, leaving Harry gasping for breath. Somehow, this was so far above his experiences with Ginny. "Do you?" the question sounded so smug.

It was almost too much.

He had never had sex—with Ginny or anyone else. Harry had claimed it to be his morals that kept him from acting on lust. He had insisted on keeping pure until marriage (though he knew Ginny had given up her virginity before they had gotten back together after the war). However, it had mainly been a lack of interest that held him back—in both Ginny and in sex. For a boy-turned-man who had fought in battles his whole life and lived on the edge of the knife, sex seemed so meaningless somehow. Hell, the man barely masturbated. He'd kissed her, even gotten in a few good snogs, but he liked work and living more than he wanted a sex life.

Until the man pulled him in that dark room.

A virgin at twenty-six? As the man's hand navigated the zipper of his pants, he foggily realized why all his friends thought him crazy for waiting so long. A skilled hand squeezed his erection roughly and he let out a gasp, gripping his partner's arms to steady himself as the sensations overwhelmed him. He received another deep kiss, and the other man's free hand became tangled in the ex-auror's unruly hair.

He was able to make things out in the darkness, his eyes having adjusted to the lack of light. It was a simply bedroom suite with a bed and nightstand on one side and a wardrobe on the other side. His _partner_ had a very handsome face, which was strangely noted because Harry rarely found anyone so attractive, much less another man. His chest was well-defined, and though it was more feeling than seeing, Harry thought he had the _wickedest_ hands.

The hand stroked at his erection almost lazily, driving Harry almost insane with a primal sort of _need._ "_Please_," he found himself begging, bucking into the hand. The other hand in his hair tugged warningly, causing the smaller man to whimper and pull back a bit.

"Please?" the man teased, lapping at his neck. The man's hand rubbed the tip of swollen organ, much too slow and light to bring him to an orgasm. "Hmm," his 'attacker' said, "the bed would be a better place to continue this, no?" How could the man be so calm? Harry wondered—very briefly. His headache had been erased by a lustful haze, and his mind focused on one thing—_pleasure_. Even the affects of the alcohol seemed to have dimmed.

The taller man tugged him to bed, hands groping Harry's behind and lips teasing his neck. Harry's unknown lover made quick work of the wizard's clothes, and within minutes of reaching the bed, he had Harry naked upon it. The dark eyed man took his time with Harry, treating the Titan's body to a mixture of rough and gentle nips, bites, and sucks. Harry's nipples were especially sensitive, and the man seemed to enjoy focusing on them—laving at them with his tongue, nibbling at them in an almost playful manner, and sucking on them in a way that made Harry cry out loudly. "Louder," the man encouraged. "I want to hear your voice."

Somehow the other man had rid himself of his own pants and undergarments without Harry noticing, and it was then that the situation dawned on Harry. It was just the two of them on the bed, bare-skinned. Dark eyes regarded him with something akin to excitement and his partner trailed a hand lightly down Harry's front, down to his neglected cock, giving it an almost feather-light caress. "Reborn," he said suddenly. Harry, panting from the man's skillful advances, peered up at him curiously. Reborn knelt between the man's spread legs with a smirk, "That's the name you'll be screaming tonight."

The head of Special Circumstances woke with a pounding headache and a raw throat. 'What the hell did I _do _last night?' he thought, sitting up and covering his eyes with one of his hands. Slowly, the pieces of the previous night came crashing onto him, and his face began to color—quickly as he recalled his company the night before, _Reborn_. The bed was empty now—much to Harry's relief. (Or was it mortification?) Recalling _those_ hands, the blush seemed to deepen. Shifting a bit beneath the sheets, he found that his head wasn't the only thing paining him. 'How the hell am I going to explain this to Draco?' he thought, horrified with himself. 'Fuck! And that brat, Xanxus!' There was no way he was going to be able to train (much less _move)_ with his waist (and other more personal areas) hurting the way they were.

"Ciao, green eyes."

Harry started, his eyes wide with surprise as Reborn closed the door quietly and strode towards the bed. The dark-eyed man was fully dressed and smirking. The most awful part for the wizard was the fact that he _still_ found the man ridiculously attractive, even after the man had taken advantage of him the night before. 'I'm never drinking like that ever again,' he promised himself, pulling the blanket up to his chin, in a silly attempt to preserve his modesty. Reborn tilted his head, and he stopped at the edge of the bed, looking smug.

"For a virgin, you weren't half bad," the man stated casually, yanking the blanket away cruelly and letting it fall to the floor. Harry squeaked despite himself and made an attempt to cover himself, but Reborn wasn't having any of it. He was on the bed in a second and had the smaller man pinned to the bed a few moments later. "Why are trying to hide?" the man asked with a snort. "I saw all of this," Reborn's hand trailed down Harry's side suggestively, "last night, if you don't recall."

Harry turned his head to the side to avoid the man's intense gaze. There was no darkness to hide in. Even with the lights off, the sun streaming in through the windows illuminated the room well enough to see _everything_ quite clearly, especially the erection growing in Reborn's pants. "We're not doing _that_ again," Harry declared stubbornly, feeling his head pound at the thought of all the repercussions of his actions. 'And how the hell did he know I was a virgin?' he mused darkly. Reborn made noise in the back of his throat, clearly unconvinced, before using a hand to loosen and undo his black tie.

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself well enough before," the hitman said without remorse, and in one swift movement, he had Harry's hands pinned above his head. The ex-auror fought wildly against the restraint. However, Reborn used his legs to pin Harry's lower body and the man already had his arms captive. The other was _strong_, Harry noted. The green-eyed man knew he was well trained, but this man's power over him was startling. Still, he couldn't just lie down and _submit _to the bastard. Could he?

Harry scowled and glared at the man defiantly, growling out a low, "Get off." Reborn ignored him and used his tie to bind Harry's hands together. Using one hand to restrain the man's tied arms, Reborn used the other to tease one of Harry's nipples. "S-stop that! I have to—" His voice cracked, still raw from all the noise he'd made earlier.

"Shut up," Reborn demanded, sounding almost _bored_ at his complaints. "You like this. I like this," the man leered. "So be quiet and spread your legs, _Saint_." Harry balked at the use of his codename.

"How do you—" Harry started to ask, but Reborn cut him off with a dark look. Instead of answering the wizard's unasked questions, the hitman began to strip. Soon, the dark-eyed man's clothes joined Harry's on the floor (minus the fedora the man wore which was placed almost gingerly on the nightstand near the bed), and Harry was ashamed to find himself staring at the naked flesh before him. The man was more impressive in the daylight, but hell, if he was about to give in without a fight. Draco was going to _murder_ him for disappearing.

Reborn bit into Harry's shoulder as a warning, "Stop thinking about others while I'm on top of you." The green-eyed man blinked. The hitman just smirked, a popular expression for his face, nipping at his nose sharply before explaining, "I can read your mind." This time, Harry snorted in disbelief.

Then, Reborn pushed his cock into Harry without warning and there went all hope of coherent thought or escape.

**X**

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Draco growled. Harry rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I must have left a hundred messages on your phone, but someone was either too intoxicated or too much of an ass to answer," the blond snarled, prodding Harry hard in the chest. Harry winced as he was forced to take a step back. _Everything_ hurt, even more so since Reborn had decided to go in for round two. Draco's eyes narrowed at the show of weakness, and he examined Harry closely. Before Harry could speak, the blond pointed out, in a very frighteningly calm voice, one of the many marks Reborn had inflicted.

Draco yanked down the collar of his shirt despite Harry's protest. "Who the _fuck_ did you shack up with last night? It looks like they _mauled_ you," the Slytherin said in an almost scandalized tone. The head of Titan pinked, pulling his collar back cover the black-and-blue bruises that circled his throat quickly.

"I'm sorry about last night," Harry apologized, attempting to change the subject. "I honestly thought you were just being an ass (though that was probably the alcohol talking more than anything) so I turned off my phone." Draco frowned, his eyes trained on Harry's neck, and he walked away without another word. Upset with himself (and that ridiculous Reborn), Harry cancelled his training exercises for the day, including his lesson with Xanxus, and went to go take a _long_ nap.

The blond ignored him until the last of the love bites faded, though Harry apologized for that night more times than he could count.

Why did Draco react so strongly? It wasn't simply concern for his friend's welfare, no. It was_ jealousy_. The Slytherin had been making attempts to seduce the Gryffindor since Harry's falling out with Ronald Weasley, and yet, seducing Harry was like attempting to seduce a _rock_. The head of Titan never seemed to notice his advances, or he read Draco's words or touches as the actions of a friend. How had someone managed to seduce the thick-headed man without Draco knowing?

The man in question was _bold_.

That fact he found by accident. Harry had just finished up a lesson with Xanxus and gone into his office, and Draco, who was quite fed up with _not_ knowing anything about Harry's secret lover, moved in for the kill (aka an impromptu interrogation). However, when he burst into his boss's office, he found that Saint was definitely _not alone_—nor was he fully dressed. "Reborn! Y-you," Harry struggled to find his words, shoving at the taller, dark-haired man roughly. Draco watched slack-jawed as the other wizard hastily closed and re-buttoned his shirt. "Stop jumping me whenever you please, you bastard!"

"Don't complain," Reborn said casually. "You enjoyed it."

Harry made a disgruntled noise, "That's—" He glared hard at the man. "Just knock it off!" The ex-auror looked flustered from Draco's standpoint and _embarrassed_. A whole slew of negative feelings bubbled to the surface of Draco's skin, and he regarded his _competition_ coolly. This 'Reborn' might have had the upper hand for the moment, but Draco _needed_ Harry—more than the lowlife before him. He's find a way to get _Reborn _out of the picture soon enough.

He was even more confident when Harry hesitantly told his story. "After you called, I headed back to my room, but, yeah, I guess I was out of it because I found _**him**_instead, messing around with a woman. Next thing I know he's," the Gryffindor had blushed a deep red color, his words getting lower, "_molesting_me and we're on the bed and…and…I didn't mean for it to happen again, Draco! I promise. He just keeps finding me, and before I know it, I'm under him and—" _Naïve. _On the one hand, Draco found it adorable that Harry could barely talk about sex, but on the other, he was _furious_ Harry was describing a situation involving another man.

"Next time, shoot him, idiot," Draco snapped, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. Being bold was the key, it seemed. He'd show Harry _bold._ "Don't let that fucking _Reborn_ take advantage of you."

Iemitsu noticed the changes first. "See you found that man," the external advisor commented casually. Harry nearly choked on his cappuccino and he stared at the other man in surprise. The two often met at a local café, one that Reborn had dragged Harry to once or twice. (Those 'dates', if you called them as such, always seemed to end with Harry getting teased gently by the hitman's hands under the table.) "Draco, right? I watched you train yesterday," the man whistled amused. "He barely kept his hands to himself, even when you were working with Xanxus."

"Draco?" Harry said in surprise. "Ah, no. We're not together." The head of Special Circumstances took an excruciatingly slow sip of his drink to avoid speaking any more on the subject. One of the blond's eyebrows rose comically.

"Eh? I was sure it was him," Iemitsu said. Harry, wisely, changed the subject to Iemitsu's wife and son, and he suffered through his friend's creepy monologue about his Nana and his cute little Tsuna—all of which he was willing to brave if it meant he didn't have to reveal his _weird-as-hell_ relationship (if that's what it was) with Reborn.

Shortly after speaking with Iemitsu (and pondering), Harry decided to just come out and ask, "Draco, are you _hitting _on me?" The other members of Titan tittered, knowing a loaded question when they heard one. Su Li, his lightening class fighter, shoved a wad of cash into Felix Brunt's hand, muttering something darkly under her breath. Felix, Titan's mist fighter, smirked proudly and counted the money in an exaggerated manner. Draco stiffened, and then sighed loudly.

He crossed his arms and stared Harry in the eyed, answering firmly, "Yes. _Took you long enough to realize, Potter." _The green-eyed wizard balked, not expecting the answer to be 'yes'; he had figured that he had been reading too much into what Iemitsu had said, that Draco was just being _friendly_ or protective because of Reborn. Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, not sure how to reply.

"Doesn't matter if he realized or not," a voice interrupted coolly. Draco stiffened like a board and a directed a harsh glare at the figure approaching. Reborn stopped directly behind Harry and wrapped an arm around the shorter man's waist casually, pressing a lingering kiss to the smaller man's neck. "He's mine."

Harry shoved the man away angrily, "Yours? What the hell, Reborn!" Draco didn't speak, instead drawing his gun and taking aim at the hitman's head. Reborn smirked, tilting his hat down a bit to shadow his face, and he drew his gun as well. Watching the two fight, Harry had the strangest feeling that he was toy being fought over.

"Reborn's an ass," Harry later told Iemitsu grumpily, sipping at his espresso.

Iemitsu snorted, "Wow, Saint. That's the man you've picked?" He gave the head of Special Circumstances what he _supposed_ was a somewhat encouraging smile, "Interesting choice." Harry let out a groan and made it clear to the blond that he hadn't _chosen_ anyone. Draco and Reborn made it some kind of contest to seduce him, and Harry was _beyond_ sick of it—the groping, the kissing, and Reborn's awful habit of jumping him whenever he pleased. Saint explained his situation, as modestly as he could. "Ah, I see. But you must see something _good_ in Reborn, right? If you let him do_ naughty _things to you?" Harry's face reddened and he grumbled something to himself.

"The sex is good," Reborn answered for him, sitting down next to Harry without bothering to ask permission. The hitman's bluntness flustered his lover, and Iemitsu watched in amusement (and amazement) as Reborn teased Saint, touching him boldly and saying things to him that would make even the most vulgar of men cringe. Harry was firing off insults and denials and seemed to be making a good effort to get Reborn to keep his hands to himself.

Iemitsu figured it would be in bad taste to tell Saint that _he_ had been the one to lead Reborn to sniff around in his direction. "Maa, you should meet Titan, Reborn," he had suggested. "They're Family now." The blond had never _dreamed_ Reborn would take the Titan to bed, nor did he expect their relationship to be like _this_. Reborn wasn't a lot different than he normally was; he was still cruel, still arrogant, and still paranoid. Yet, he seemed more open, almost playful. Iemitsu wouldn't fool himself and say it was love, but there was _something _between the two men sitting across from him.

And it appeared to be a good thing.

**X**

Reborn pressed the remains of his cigarette into the ash tray besides theirbed. His lover was asleep, no doubt worn out by their previous activities, and he watched as Harry curled closer to Reborn's side, exhaling deeply and mumbling something quietly. The thin white blanket barely covered the Titan at all (not that Reborn minded); therefore, the hitman was able to take full advantage of the view. He practically drank in his lover's sleeping body. The other man had such delectable skin, all covered with his marks now, and his neck, one of Reborn's favorite marking areas, was stretched out on the pillow and displayed a mass of hickeys Reborn had spent a greater part of the night working on.

"Reborn," Saint whispered grumpily, his nose crinkling. "Don't smoke in bed."

Such a spitfire, Reborn thought, letting his hand drift to his partner's hair. Saint was a great bottom, and boy, he knew how to arch his body in _that_ way that drove Reborn to distraction. Yet, he was anything but submissive when it came to work—or, Reborn added in his head, things like smoking in bed. (The man claimed the smell kept him awake, though it seemed that Harry had fallen right back asleep after scolding Reborn. ) It irked Reborn. He hadn't strayed from Harry's bed for over a year, and there were no others that caught his interest. Captivated, Iemitsu had said. Reborn scoffed at the word 'love', but he had settled for 'captivated'.

Harry's fire, his naivety when it came to sex, they amused Reborn. He liked the way the Titan fought him, the way he would always give in to sensation after a while and let Reborn do as he pleased. Saint made such _pretty_ noises, too, and Reborn took great satisfaction in those expressions of unbridled pleasure that crossed the man's face when sensation became too much. He hadn't lied to Iemitsu when he had said that sex was _good._ Sometimes, Reborn mused, it was probably too good.

It had been over a year, and he had not left. Reborn didn't, as a general rule, stay faithful to a single partner; it wasn't his way. He was too paranoid, too uninterested. Sex got boring with a single lover, but there he was, sharing a room and bed with the same man he'd been sleeping with for over a year. It was a dangerous game, the hitman reckoned. The hitman had a plethora of excuses for his behavior—Harry was too good in bed to replace, sex with Harry annoyed that bastard, Draco Malfoy, and he could better keep an eye on the head of Titan and his activities. Mainly though, he said it was for the mind-blowing sex.

But he could see what it was turning into.

Love was a dangerous arena. Hitmen didn't love. Too many things could happen to destroy the happiness of romance. Someone could attempt to use Harry against him. Harry could betray him. He was a _hitman_, and people generally were uncomfortable of his lot—respectful, yes, but fearful. There was also the matter of the Tri-Ni-Set. Love was a headache, but Reborn had never had an issue with it before—until he realized just how obsessed he was with Saint. He found himself listening and watching for the man's laughs or smiles, often going out of his way to cause them himself. In the middle of missions, Reborn would crave a kiss or a touch from his lover. He dreamt of Harry, too, during the darker days, when he felt like he might die.

Dangerous, that's what it was. A distraction.

But he couldn't back away. He was in so deep, wrapped up in his odd relationship with the head of the Special Circumstances Response Division. Already, Reborn knew almost all the details of Saint's life—his past and how he had come to be a part of the Vongola. The hitman knew about Teddy, Harry's beloved godson, and all about his lover's troublesome student, Xanxus. Such closeness, it bred intimacy and a weird brand of trust.

Reborn found no reason to trust most—not even the other soon-to-be protectors of the Tri-Ni-Set. But the wizard was so naïve, so full of layers and a calm sort of fire. It was no wonder that many were drawn to him, no wonder so many trusted in his leadership. Even that damn Draco, who had never truly given up on seducing Harry, Reborn could see why he was so attracted.

"Reborn," the man complained. "You're thinking so loud. Go to sleep." A green eye squinted up at the hitman, irritated. The dark-eyed man smirked, hand slipping under the blanket devilishly. He was wide awake, and if his lover was awake enough to complain, the hitman was allowed to play a bit _dirty._ Harry's eyes shot open, and he glared at Reborn unhappily. "No," he said firmly. "It's almost morning, and we're not doing that _now._"

"You always say complain before sex," Reborn calmly said, rolling on top of his lover. "Can't you, just once, be a sweet lover and tell me you want me?" The wizard huffed, placing his hands on Reborn's chest, not pushing him away for once.

"Bastard. You're fishing for compliments," Saint whispered. Reborn pressed a hard kiss to the man's mouth, letting his tongue explore the familiar territory. One of the hitman's hands played with the wizard's nipples, causing Harry to gasp into the kiss. Then, Harry surprised him by whispering seductively into his neck a few moments later, "Come on, Reborn. I _want_ you. _Inside me. Now."_

The hitman didn't need telling twice.


End file.
